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I saw a rock that looked like a piece of liver. Went to pick it up. It pulsated. Some kind of sea slug. Weird, naked and vulnerable. Squirmy limbs like tree fungus uncurling from it. A foot away the waves. I should throw it back, I thought. But what if it wanted to beach itself. Maybe it has its reasons.

I let it go. The tide was rising. Maybe it died in agony wishing I’d thrown it back. Maybe it lived, wishing I’d killed it.